Almost
by The Red Strings
Summary: For everything that she has ever felt, Hermione realizes that 'almost' is a cruel word. Drabble. Oneshot. Dramione.


**And just a little drabble inspired a little thing I saw on tumblr while I was on a break from Dramione. Nothing too big, but I certainly do hope you enjoy reading it. To all those who still feel for those 'what ifs' and 'almost' moments, and then torturing yourself on what could have happened and all the other possibilities that follow. I suppose I wrote this after my post-depression of revisiting my hometown and thinking of a possible different life.**

**Anyways, I do hope you enjoy this little drabble.**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._  
**

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**.:Almost:.**

The word _almost_ has always left Hermione a strange feeling that she could never quite pinpoint, but it was something akin to heartache and a fleeting dream. Though, it was then after she lost him she realized what _almost_ really was. It was bittersweet, she thought, as she would sit at her window with a cooling cup of tea. The days would blend into one another, a series of gloomy grey and loneliness.

Hermione watched the world go on by as she stayed behind her closed doors and thick-glassed windows. Only the sound of the wind would pass through at times, and in those moments, sometimes she hears the words the wind carries from his lips to her. She swore that sometimes she could feel his kiss falling on top of her lips, and then Hermione would remember how awful _almost_ really is.

_Almost_ is when your fingers slips through his and then trying to grasp his back into your own, wanting nothing more than him to remain there. It is when you remember the warmth that his body has left in your bed, crawling onto his side in order to soak in all the memories that he has left you. It is when those cool eyes become warm at the sight of you and then suddenly, he turns his gaze away from you to watch another.

And no matter how hard you tried, you realize that you then become nothing to him.

For you _almost_ had him and surely lost him._  
_

_Almost_ is when she thought she could taste his lips every day, savoring the marmalade he would have every morning on his toast. It is when that she knew that he could love her back, but the reality would seep in between the cracks and then it leaves her out in the frigid air of heartache. And yet, Hermione could never stop herself from revisiting the past.

She was a masochist.

And he _almost_ loved her for it.

Hermione had a taste of what could have been, and she was hungry to have another sampling again. She wanted more than just a memory of his lips and his warmth, she wanted more than what _almost happened_. Almost is an odd place to be, she concluded, for it was in that state between waking from a dream and hazily back into reality.

It leaves you wishing.

It makes you constantly crave for something that was once _almost_ and painfully true.

And then it makes you wonder how things could have gone differently.

Hermione Granger almost had an ever after.

She almost had Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy almost loved her, and she almost loved him.

But _almost_ is never a certainty for they were never beyond that edge of fear and questioning. For everything that has happened, sometimes Hermione wished that this _almost_ could have transformed to a reality of love and warmth. If she had left her prejudices in the past and if he had left his pride at her door, they would be curled up next to each other, basking in each other's warmth.

Though, she knew that it could never be now for he has moved on from her.

_From them_.

For when she lacked courage and he failed in being decisive back then, he clearly made everything up now with a beautiful wife on his arm and a heir in his other. And in those times of remembrance of how cruel reality is, Hermione would find herself tracing his face in the newspaper with her dainty fingers. His hard eyes and cool smile were nothing like the ones she adored, and yet everything was the same about him. From his immaculate clothes to the trim of his nails, Draco was still the man she almost loved.

_The fights. The passion. The pain._

The goodbye that he left on her lips.

And then Hermione would realize that she never did like the word _almost_.

_"I almost had you. Almost."_

_-I Almost Had You by Royla Asghar-_

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**Well now! I hope you enjoyed that short little drabble. How do you feel about the word _almost_? Or _what could have been?_ Or all the _possibilities_? Or _chances?_ Does it leave a bittersweet taste in your mouth? Do you wish for something different? It is difficult and odd when you are in a situation that leaves you wondering and wishing of something that could have happened but never will.**

**Kind of sucks, doesn't it?**

**-The Red Strings-**


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